


if we're torn apart, i wont let go (wherever we are feels like home)

by etherealkris



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Booker is Good, Drowning, Established Relationship, F/F, M/M, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, andy is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:13:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25654201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherealkris/pseuds/etherealkris
Summary: “I thought I had lost you forever,” Andromache breathed, moving Quynh’s wet hair out of her face.Quynh grasped Andromache’s hands in her own, pressing them gently to her lips. “Looks like next time they will have to try harder.”Over 60 years later, Andy finds Quynh.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 289





	if we're torn apart, i wont let go (wherever we are feels like home)

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like there aren't enough andy/quynh fics so i wrote one! i also haven't seen anyone else do this concept. enjoy!
> 
> the title is from the song end of the earth by MARINA

**1790**

Andromache awoke with a gasp, beads of sweat dripping from her forehead. It was late, the darkness of the room she laid in was overwhelming. She reached over and lit a candle, providing a dim glow to the corner of the room. 

It was a nightmare - again. She was having recurring nightmares of losing Quynh. Thrashing against her chains, trying to reach out and grab her. _You’re too powerful together._ That’s what the guard had told her. He was right, she supposed. They had spent almost every waking moment together for centuries. Maybe it was cliche, but she hadn’t wanted to live her interminable life with anyone else. 

She rose, quietly as not to wake Joe and Nicky, and made her way across their small safehouse to grab a drink. The nightmares seemed to be getting worse; maybe that meant she was getting closer to finding her. Probably not, but it was a nice thought. 

As she poured cider into a small mug, she heard footsteps behind her and instinctively put her left hand on the sharp blade in her pocket. 

“It’s just me,” She heard an accented male voice say and felt herself relax. 

“Nicholas,” She turned to give him a small smile. She must have woken him. He was always a lighter sleeper than Joseph. Perhaps that was why he slept with Joseph’s arms around him - in order to serve as a barrier between him and a potential attacker. He was Joe’s protector, even during sleep.

“Andréa,” He greeted in response. His hair was slightly disheveled at being pulled from his slumber. He rubbed his hand against one of his eyes and gave her a damp smile. “Nightmare?” 

“Yeah,” She said while taking a sip of cider from her mug. 

“I get them too, you know,” Nicholas muttered, moving closer to Andromache in order to not wake his beloved. “Joe does too.”

“I know,” She breathed. She does not know how to tell him that her nightmares vary significantly from Nicholas’ or Joseph’s. They consist mainly of losing Quynh in a multitude of ways. They all end with her drowning over and over. Of course, she also gets the dreams that Nicholas and Joseph get. In those dreams, she sees Quynh and feels her drowning, choking against the water rapidly filling up her lungs, the burning feeling in her chest, the constricting of her throat. It is somehow worse knowing that she is not the only one that gets those dreams. Nicholas stayed with Andromache for about an hour. She appreciated his caring nature; she was his leader, yet he still was there to take care of her. They sat in silence; simply being in each other’s presence in the darkness only lit by small candlelight was enough. 

Eventually, Nicholas bid her goodnight, leaving her alone with her cider. She watched him walk down the narrow hallway and crawl into Joseph’s arms, wrapping the other man’s arms around him as if he never left. 

The pang in her chest seeing the two together almost hurt more than the nightmare. 

  


* * *

**1812**

They found Sebastien Le Livre drunkenly walking around the streets of Northern France. He had been one of Napoleon’s soldiers and was sentenced to death for desertion. In Sebastien’s case, this meant defying Napoleon himself and being caught. He was hung in December, the crisp air biting at his skin as he pretended to be dead for three days. 

Joseph was the first to get the nightmare. First, they had all dreamt of a man with messy blonde hair fighting in a war. The dreams progressed to nightmares, feeling the pain Sebastien had felt when he was hung - the crack of his neck, the bitter cold against exposed skin. 

The first thing Sebastien asked, with his thick French accent, was, _“Who is she?”_ Andromache felt her heart clench. This poor man had no idea. He had no idea what he was or what his future held, however long it may be. 

“Her name was Quynh.” She told him and Sebastien nodded. 

“I feel her drowning in my dreams.” He stated, resolutely. Andromache ran her fingers through her hair and frowned. “Us, too.”

“Is she still alive?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” 

  


* * *

**1815**

Sebastien had not taken well to immortality. He complained incessantly and needed to know the reason this happened to _him._ Nicholas told him he believed it was destiny and Sebastian spat in his face. 

He was angry that he was immortal. He was angry that he would never see his family again. He was angry that he would never have the opportunity to kiss his wife again. He was angry that he was overwhelmingly lonely. 

Nicholas and Joseph glaringly stayed out of his way. They were both incredibly protective of each other and more days than not, staying out of Sebastian’s way was the best way to keep the other safe. 

Despite his moods, there were some good days. 

“Why does your name mean book?” Joseph asked Sebastien one day, glancing up from his sketchbook.

“What?” He asked, whipping his head to look at the man. 

“Le Livre,” Joseph said. “It means the book. So, your name is Sebastien Book.” 

“Venerable.” Nicholas snorted from across the room. Andromache allowed a small smile to grace her features. “It’s used when someone dies and the chief bishop declares them holy.” 

“Of course you’d know that,” Joseph laughed. “Venerable Book.” 

“It’s not that funny, Joseph,” Booker glanced at him, rolling his eyes. “Doesn’t your name mean addition or something?” He laughed, throaty and deep. Andromache decided she liked it when he laughed, rather than his overwhelming anger. 

“I thought we were never going to mention that!” Joseph cried and all of the immortals burst into laughter. 

Once the laughter died down, Joseph said, “I’m still gonna call you Book, though. Maybe Booker. You do love to run away from us often. You _book it._ ” 

  


* * *

**1816**

“I’m never going to find her, am I?” Andromache groaned, placing her head in her hands against the cool, hard table she was sitting at. 

“Untrue,” Nicholas told her, placing a light hand on her shoulder. 

They had been searching the English Channel along the coast of Normandy for weeks. Booker had been in surprisingly good spirits - perhaps it was the freshwater, or the fact that he was not the only one miserable. 

Booker had rented them a boat and the four were taking turns diving down as far as they could go in the water without dying. Andy had considered drowning in order to get farther down, but Joseph insisted that the pressure would burst her eardrums and cause an unnecessarily painful death and pulled on the rope to lift her out of the water. In Andromache’s mind, it was a small price to pay for what Quynh had gone through the last 60 years. 

At night, all four of the immortals dreamt of drowning. 

One night after a rather gruesome nightmare, Andy tiptoed out into the common room of their small pied-à-terre. Booker was awake, reading a book lit only from the moonlight pouring in from the window. 

When she approached him, she said with finality, “Take me to the water.” 

He looked at her, one eyebrow furrowed. “What are you talking about? We will go in the morning.”

“No. Joseph will not allow me to let myself die. It’s the only way I’ll be able to save her.” 

Booker put down his book and sighed. He peered over to the corner where Joseph was sleeping with his arms tightly wrapped around Nicholas. “It is too risky.”

“No, let me finish,” He said, seeing the look on her face. “It is too risky now. At dusk, we will go. It will be impossible in the dark. We have to be as silent as possible; we don’t want to wake the boys. You will still wear the rope. If you do not rise in 30 minutes, I will pull you up. That’s 15 more; it should give you enough time.” 

“Book, you have no idea how grateful I am for this,” Andromache told him, sincerely.

“I’ve been thinking, Andréa. It may be the only way.” 

  


* * *

  


“Let’s go,” Booker whispered, grabbing his things and tiptoeing out of the pied-à-terre with Andromache close behind. 

When they arrived at the water, bringing the boat far enough into the ocean, he gently wrapped the rope around her waist and pulled the loop tight. Her chest tightened and her heart beat heavily in her chest. This may be her only chance to find Quynh - to save her. 

“Remember,” Booker told her. “If you find her, pull on the rope as hard as you can. It will be hard to bring her to the surface. I can try to help the best I can, but I can not guarantee anything.” 

“I know, Booker. Thank you.” 

“I’ll pull you up after 30 minutes. You may have died multiple times by then and it’s going to be hard to survive, let alone rescue another human.” 

“I know; conserve my energy as much as I can,” She repeated words he told her earlier in the morning on their way to the water. 

“Good luck,” He told her and she got as close as she could to the edge of the boat and dove into the ice cold water.

Those were the last words she heard as she entered, hands and arms linking together above her head. Once she felt the cool water rushing around her, she moved her arms in a ghost-formation around her body, pushing the water behind her as she made her way downward. She kicked her legs as fast as she could, trying to get as deep as she could before she lost her first breath. As she descended into the depths of the ocean, she could feel her vision start to decrease. She had been swimming longer than they ever had before. She wasn’t sure if it was a lack of visibility or if she was slowly losing consciousness. 

When she woke, Andromache was laying on the edge of a sand dune, deep in the ocean. The second she shook herself awake, she allowed her vision to adjust. It was dark, but it was not dark enough that she couldn’t see anything. Fish swam around her as she noticed her lungs burning and her throat constricting. _Not yet_ , she thought to herself and pushed off of the dune she had passed out upon to go farther down in the water. 

The third time she woke, she thought, it was difficult to keep track of the number of times she had died, she was surrounded by near darkness. It appeared that she had continued falling even after she died and was resurrected. However, this time, she did not allow herself the time to adjust. She ignored the burning in her chest and moved her body, continuing to swim downward as fast as her body would allow. 

When she opened her eyes, she was laying on a large rock. It was now completely black around her except for the small amount of light emitting from the fish swimming around her. However, this time when she woke, she thought she heard a faint scream, covered by bubbles. She followed the noise the best she could and spotted something reflecting across the water resting on a shelf. 

“Quynh!” Andromache screamed as loud as she could bear without dying again, though muffled through the water, and kicked her legs so fast she thought they might give out. She reached the large, shiny object in the water and grabbed a small glowing fish that was swimming past her. As she shined the light emitting from the fish onto the object, she gasped, feeling her vision start to blur. She worked at the metal, trying to get it off of Quynh when she felt everything go black. 

When she gasped awake, somehow the metal helmet had made its way off of Quynh who was currently shaking Andromache’s face in an attempt to wake her. Once consciousness reached her, she cupped Quynh’s face and pressed their foreheads underwater. Her lungs were burning, her body aching, but at least they could have this moment. Quynh died shortly after and she knew she was going to have to work quickly. She knew she was going to die again soon - the deaths seemed to be getting shorter and shorter apart. She worked her hardest to undo the ropes and chains around the iron maiden, but as quickly as she woke, Andromache began to feel herself fading.

As she came to consciousness, her limbs felt heavy and weak. She doesn’t know how many times she died trying to free Quynh and bring her to the surface, but when she opened her eyes, Quynh was tightly gripping onto her body as they rose into the clear blue colored water, her metal cage forgotten at the bottom of the ocean. She was going to owe a large debt to Booker once this was over. With adrenaline coursing through her veins, she held tightly onto Quynh and kicked her legs in such a way to push them both upward in the water. 

When they reached the surface, lightheaded, Andromache took a deep breath of fresh air while clutching onto Quynh like both of their lives depended on it. Booker yanked on the rope, pulling the pair closer to the boat so he could help hoist them up. First, he reached for Quynh, who weakly grabbed his hand and lifted her into the boat as Andromache pushed her upward. Booker laid her down on the floor of the boat coughing up bits of water and then helped Andromache up as well. 

Andromache immediately kneeled down, coughing briefly in her free arm, bringing her hand to cup Quynh’s face. Booker began rowing the boat to the shore and unintelligibly muttering to himself.

“What?” Minutes later, Andromache looked up at Booker to see Joseph and Nicholas anxiously standing on the edge of the shore. “How did they get here?”

Once they docked, Andromache helped Quynh out of the boat with a steady arm around her shoulder and sat next to her on the warm sand. Nicholas and Joseph came closer, tightly clutching each other, yet kept their distance, unwilling to break the thick tension. Booker moved so he had one knee on the damp sand, peering at Quynh from above Andromache’s shoulder. 

“I thought I had lost you forever,” Andromache breathed, moving Quynh’s wet hair out of her face. 

Quynh grasped Andromache’s hands in her own, pressing them gently to her lips. “Looks like next time they will have to try harder.”

Tears finally, finally, formed in Andromache’s eyes as she wrapped her arms around Quynh, breathing her in, and whispered, “I missed you so much.”

  


* * *

  


Although Quynh was back and safe, 60 years of extreme trauma is not erased. Some nights Quynh woke up screaming, dreaming she was back underwater, drowning over and over again. Andromache would wake up, hands immediately reaching Quynh to calm her. Sometimes her screams woke everyone in the house, causing Joe and Nicolò to appear in the doorway.

Sometimes Nicolò would have private conversations with Quynh in the corner of their common room. Andromache was always slightly curious about what they discussed during these private meetings, but Joe would place a calming hand on her shoulder and assure her that it was necessary to provide Quynh her a safe space. 

There were good days and bad days. Some days, Quynh would appear to be her past self, making others smile from her wit. Andromache would always watch her with a silent, fond smile. Other days, she would lay in their bed, staring at the ceiling, unmoving. It concerned Andromache, seeing the woman she loved most as still as a statue. 

On one of the particularly bad days, Quynh lay on her back staring at the cracked ceiling with Andromache in a similar position next to her. 

“Andromache,” She muttered, looking over at Andromache, shoulders touching. 

“When I was down there. Under the water,” She blinked and swallowed hard. “I. The pressure was considerable. I’m sure you understand what I mean, you had to go down that far to get to me.”

“Yes,” Andromache met Quynh’s gaze and nodded, unsure where she was going with this. 

“Sometimes I feel empty,” She whispered. “There was so _much_ for so long, it’s like my senses are screwed up. Some days I feel numb without it.”

“Without what?” Andromache asked carefully. She was not sure what she was alluding to. 

“The pressure,” She breathed. 

Andromache blinked and rolled over to give Quynh a hug. It frustrated her greatly that she could not help her. As soon as she moved backward, away from the hug, Quynh groaned and pulled Andromache on top of her. “Feels nice. Solid.”

“Stay,” She murmured. Andromache nuzzled her face into the crook of Quynh’s neck and happily obliged. 

  


* * *

  


After that day it became a Thing. Quynh would quietly ask Andromache and she would fold herself around Quynh and lay on her like a weighted blanket. 

The first time the team saw the two, they were laid on the sofa, Andromache curled on top of Quynh as they spoke in hushed voices to each other. Andromache’s hair flopped in her face as she spoke with her elbows positioned on the sofa on either side of Quynh’s body. Quynh smiled softly up at her and took a few strands of hair falling in Andromache’s face tucking them behind her ear. 

Andromache could tell Booker was eyeing them from across the room, every so often raising his gaze from his novel to the pair. Joseph and Nicholas hid their smiles from their position across the room, curled together on the sofa.

“Look at them, Joe,” Andromache heard Nicholas whisper to his lover. “They’re so cute.” She watched Joseph smile sweetly and kiss the top Nicholas’ head in response. 

“You guys can say it, you know?” Andromache prompted. Quynh laughed from beneath her and both Joseph and Nicholas’ faces broke into a grin. 

“Comfortable, huh?” Booker teased, rolling his eyes. 

She was. Although the pressure of her body on Quynh’s was a way for her to cope with the extreme loss of pressure from all sides, it benefited Andromache in its own way, too. She was much more touch starved than she had realized. It was obvious to Joseph, Nicholas, and Booker, and they did not hesitate to tell her so. 

“The pressure,” Quynh spoke. “It grounds me.” 

Andromache smiled softly, pressed a light kiss to her forehead, and rested her head on her chest.

  


* * *

**2019**

It had been over 200 years since Andromache, now Andy, rescued Quynh in the depths of the ocean. Some nights, Quynh still had nightmares about drowning. Andromache would shake her awake, pressing their foreheads together, reminding her that she was here.

Other nights, Andromache would have nightmares about failing to save Quynh, waking up sweaty with her name on her lips. Quynh would lean over in the small bed and press her lips to hers, reassuring her of her presence. 

“Do not blame yourself,” Quynh would say, resolutely. “You found me. That is what matters.” 

When the team starts dreaming of a young, beautiful girl with dark eyes and an unwavering spirit, Nicky is the first to speak up. Joe placed his hand on Nicky’s back, providing a steady reassurance. 

“Joe and I have been having dreams. Of a young girl. One of us.” Of course, everyone knew who Nicky was speaking of - they all had the same dreams. “We need to find her.” 

“Do we?” Andy asked, eyebrows raised. A flash of something crossed Nicky’s face as he muttered to Joe as he left and returned with his small sketchbook. Joe flipped through the coarse pages until he reached his destination, handing the book to Nicky. 

“This is her,” Nicky stated, pointing to the girl on the pages. Joe was a good artist, Andy noted. Then again, he always had been, drawing Nicky as often as possible. 

“She’s confused, she’s scared, and she’s more alone than she has ever been in her entire life. She does not know what is happening to her. You can’t tell me you don’t remember what it was like. We must find her.” He finished. 

Andy nodded. 

It took longer than expected to find the girl and a few more stab wounds than Andy would have liked, but she eventually was able to bring Nile back to the group. She got along best with Nicky and Joe who seemed to have adopted her as one of their own. She had conversations about art history with Joe, who was ecstatic to have found someone who shared his passion for art. The group once went to an art museum to appease her, who continuously asked if they were in every painting they viewed.

“She’s like a baby lamb,” Quynh joked, nudging Andy’s shoulder. Andy was watching Nicky tell her about the 16th century, Joe standing next to him with tender eyes. 

Andy snorted. “She’s ruthless. She’s like a toddler who just keeps asking questions.”  
“She is a toddler, compared to us,” Quynh laughed, throwing a toothy grin at Andy. 

Andy linked their arms as they walked through the museum. 

  


* * *

  


They fought in many wars, yet nothing prepared them for Nile’s steadfast valor. During missions, Nile was like a firecracker. She was the least technically skilled, though she had enough passion for the group combined. While Joe and Nicky fought in sync, like two halves of a whole, Nile plowed through enemies with as much force as possible. Andy led the group using her labrys to get through anyone in her way. If she were to turn around, Quynh would be on her tail, as always, with Booker following behind her.

“I’m happy you’re here, Nile,” Booker joked one day following a mission. “I’m finally not the fifth wheel anymore.” 

Andy rolled her eyes and Quynh pecked her on the cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! 
> 
>   
> my social media:
> 
> tumblr: [niccolos](https://niccolos.tumblr.com)
> 
> twitter: [nomadstevies](https://twitter.com/nomadstevies)


End file.
